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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22985533">A New Chapter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elora_Lane/pseuds/Elora_Lane'>Elora_Lane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AUTHOR AU, Bathroom Sex, Bellamys a cinnamon roll, Clarke is emotionally damaged, Emotional Healing, Eventual Smut, F/M, Horror Author Clarke, Mildly Crude Language, Modern AU, POV Clarke Griffin, Past Bellamy/gina, Past Clexa - Freeform, Public Sex, Romance Author Bellamy, Touch-starved Clarke, because why not?, but not as bad as I usually write. ha, corny trope stuff, on both ends, past trauma, some "F" bombs, writing lessons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:41:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22985533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elora_Lane/pseuds/Elora_Lane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke, a horror author, is having a hard time making her Sophmore effort "approachable". At the insistence of her publisher, she takes "romance lessons" with a famous romance author. </p><p>The lessons though, end up being for both of them, and aren't at all about writing, not really.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bellarke smut</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No Man is an Island</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I saw this prompt on twitter and played with it a bit. I hope you guys enjoy. I know I have other stories to work on, but I thought this would be a nice little fluffy aside. Enjoy! There will be just one more chapter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke rolled her eyes as she clapped her hands lazily for<em> yet another</em> <em>speaker </em>... it made her feel a bit angry, indignant really, that she had to sit through all these speakers for a three-day conference on writing.  </p><p>She was a New York Times Bestselling Author, for god’s sake.  </p><p>Did she really need this? </p><p>According to her publisher, Charmaine Diyoza, the answer was a resounding "<em>yes." </em>  </p><p>They had argued for over an hour- Diyoza citing that just because she had one bestseller, didn’t mean she was guaranteed another, and that she needed to “branch out” and learn how to write a love scene that didn’t involve blood, gore and “revolting shit.”  </p><p>Clearly, Diyoza was a businesswoman- not a horror writer.  </p><p>So here Clarke was, having shuffled over to a small group. Tapping her journal with her pen, she pretended to write down what little she found of use at this stupid conference. It was a conference for romance novelists, nonetheless. And although Clarke had promised to go to some “normal” lectures, she was now in a small group talking about domination and submission scenes- and how to write it for soccer moms.  </p><p>Okay, maybe Clarke added the soccer mom part herself.  </p><p><em> Whatever.  </em> </p><p>“Look, I think that enthusiastic consent is great and all- but how do you write it so that it’s also sexy?” a blonde woman, Harper McIntyre (if Clarke’s memory served her right), leaned forward and asked, “I mean, the whole Fifty Shades <em> sign a contract thing </em>is so over-done.” </p><p>“Fifty Shades is over-done,” another author snickered, before being hit in the back of the head by a third figure who was moving to sit down in one of the chairs. </p><p>“Shut up, Murphy,” the guy said- his voice rumbling and rather deep. As he turned to Murphy, he ran one large dark-skinned hand through his thick black curls and spoke again, “just because you prefer your scenes less-than-consensual, doesn’t mean this isn’t a legitimate question. Harper, I think that there’s something to be said for using non-verbal communication and implied consent in this scenario- do you have a piece you want us to look at?”  </p><p>Harper seemed eager to work on her piece, and well, Clarke couldn’t lie, it was pretty good. The guy who joined belatedly had been extremely helpful and patient. He even brought up different ways that scenes could be written as to not tilt the power dynamic in a way that was misogynistic. He seemed to be the leader of the group, which was weird because he wasn’t even wearing a name tag. On that note, Clarke wasn’t even wearing her own, so who was she to judge? She had grabbed the first one that wasn’t hers- it was some weird name, <em> Bellamy, </em> <em>  or whatever- </em> all she knew was she didn’t want anyone at this thing knowing who she was.  </p><p>“What about our newbie,” the man rounded on her, his warm brown eyes taking her in, as he smiled wide, “any pointers on implied consent?”  </p><p>“I- uh,” Clarke stammered, “I don’t really write smut. So, I wouldn’t know.”  </p><p>At that, everyone seemed to have two reactions: they cringed or looked like they’d been slapped. The man merely nodded though, “so, why are you here...” he said, looking at her name tag, “... <em> Bellamy </em>?” A knowing smile formed on his lips as Harper and Murphy laughed- no doubt they all knew she wasn’t whoever this Bellamy was.  </p><p>“I heard there were good cookies,” she said, trying to be cute and popping one in her mouth. She was finding it difficult to remain calm and confident while his eyes seemed to burn a hole right through her.  </p><p>“Well, the food play seminar isn’t until three,” he ribbed before he turned back to Harper and made more notes.  </p><p>Once everyone was sufficiently distracted, another author- Maya Vie- leaned over and whispered to Clarke, “We don’t really like to call our work smut- its offensive.”  </p><p>Just then, Clarke felt her stomach sink. She couldn’t even get by with a bunch of shameless porn writers... now she was really fucked.  </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Clarke kept a low profile for the rest of the first day. Every time she saw "that guy", she would turn the other way. There was something about him that freaked her out. It was like he saw right through her- somehow, he knew that she didn’t belong here. </p><p>In another seminar, she was told to make a list of things that inspire her to write. Of course, her list involved all the traumas that she had faced, all the death, the sickness, the abandonment. It was really shocking to look down at it and see that there literally wasn’t anything positive or uplifting about her inspiration to write.  </p><p>Maybe that was why her characters never really received happy endings?  </p><p>It was a concept that went over well in her first book because it was edgy and new. It was unexpected from a freshman author, especially when she killed off the protagonist. But with her new book, she was having a hard time coming up with new ideas. Everything she sent to Diyoza got sent back- according to her, she was just writing torture porn with no or little sex. The whole point of this seminar was to “soften Clarke up” make her see that her characters could use some happiness, something other than knife play and monster fucking in the bedroom.  </p><p>Not that those were inherently bad things- no. Diyoza had picked Clarke up as a writer for a reason, after all. It just seemed that she needed to be more... well rounded.  </p><p>As much as Clarke hated to think about it, she couldn’t help but cringe at her own love life. She had dated Finn for all of six months. He had been so vanilla and boring that Clarke almost scratched her eyes out- and that was before she found out he was cheating on her.  </p><p>Then there was Niylah, she had been fun until she wasn’t. It was never anything serious, and after Clarke’s dad died, the depression she went into must have been uncomfortable, because Niylah noped out real fast.  </p><p>Then there was Lexa. The brilliant and beautiful love of Clarke’s sorry life. If there was ever a time that Clarke could have written a romance novel, it was when she was with her.  </p><p>But after a year, and fateful night, her fiancé of three days was dead, and Clarke had been questioned as a potential suspect in her murder case.  </p><p>It was fucked, but it was what got Clarke writing in the first place. The whole experience had been a nightmare to her, and maybe that was why she started turning nightmares into prose? Perhaps she was trying to rationalize, work through what Lexa had gone through- what she had experienced, too?  </p><p>“I’ll have what she’s having,” that voice from this morning met her ears- and damn it if it wasn’t sexy as hell, but Clarke felt herself clamping up- trying to make up an excuse to leave, “and another for the lady.”  </p><p>“Thanks,” Clarke said, giving a sideways glance to the man who she had apparently offended earlier, “I owe you.”  </p><p>“Not to worry... Just dedicate the next bestseller to me.”  </p><p>At that, Clarke’s head snapped up, “You know who I am?”  </p><p>“Oh, c’mon Ms. Griffin, you don’t exactly keep a low profile. You admitted to not writing romance, and you don’t use any amount of anonymity- your photo is on the back panel of your book... However, I will say, it doesn’t do you justice,” he said, smiling down at her. For a moment, Clarke couldn’t believe what she was hearing...<em>  was he really hitting on her? </em> “I do like that you’ve stuck with the name tag all day- that author uses a pseudonym, so no one missed it.”  </p><p>“Oh, really? I would have thought Bellamy is a pseudonym.” </p><p>“Because?” the man asked, turning to Clarke fully. Just then, their drinks were delivered, and Clarke had never been happier to receive alcohol. </p><p>“Bellamy is... eccentric, but poetic. It just seems like a good strong name for a woman,” Clarke said simply, but for some reason, the man chuckled, “what?”  </p><p>“and what if <em> ‘Bellamy’ </em> is a man?”  </p><p>At that Clarke rolled her eyes, “Seriously?” </p><p>“Yeah, and what if Bellamy is a half-way decent romance writer? What if, he could teach you things?”  </p><p>“Oh, seriously? I know I write horror, but there’s no way. Romance is a woman’s field... what would I possibly learn from a-”  </p><p>“Ok, before you knock it, try it,” he said, pulling out a book. As Clarke sipped her drink, she eyed the paperback. It looked like a somewhat standard romance novel. Except, there was something a bit more... modest about it? There was no Fabio and no cleavage-exposed princess. No, the woman on the cover was wearing a black dress, there were a cemetery and rolling hills, other than the green hills, the cover had streaks of rich orange, red and slight purple- like a sunrise.  </p><p><em> “The Promise, </em><em>by Anika Bennett. </em>That’s something Bellamy published last year. See, it was a Bestseller, since you get such a lady erection from those.”  </p><p>Clarke scoffed for just a moment before she took the book and eyed it with skepticism. It was thick, but not so thick as to be unreadable in a day or two, “Can I read it?” she asked. When the man nodded, she opened the book and began to hastily scan the words. The book caught her attention immediately, and it kept it. When the first love scene appeared, Clarke almost cried, it was a flashback that the protagonist was having. She was a widow, dreaming about her husband, who had passed a year before. It was lovely, sad, intense.  </p><p>It seemed as if the author knew her pain- but had found a better outlet for it. Suddenly feeling embarrassed Clarke closed the book and handed it back, “a woman wrote this,” she said, “it’s too emotional- too soothing.”  </p><p>At that, the man smiled, “really? You think so?”  </p><p>“Yeah- also, the sex is too hot. No man knows a woman’s body like that,” Clarke said, trying not to blush. It should have been obvious that this was written by a woman, how could this man even think that it wasn’t?  </p><p>At that, he laughed, “or, maybe the sex is written well... because Bellamy is good in bed?”  </p><p>As Clarke let out a disbelieving laugh, another familiar voice came their way, “Bellamy!” Diyoza chimed, her body sashaying into full view, as she gave the man a hug, “how’s my star author?”  </p><p>“Hey, Charmaine,” he said, as she planted a kiss on his cheek, and he hugged her back. </p><p>
  <em>Well, this was mortifying. </em>
</p><p>“Oh! I see you’ve met Clarke,” Diyoza smiled (there was no way she wasn’t drunk, but that was neither here nor there), “are you teachin’ our girl all you know?”  </p><p>“I think I could show her a few things,” Bellamy said, eyeing her with such intensity, it made heat spread across Clarke's cheeks and chest. Her situation was only made worse by his jaw ticking as his gaze followed her blush, “if she wants to learn, that is.” </p><p> </p><p>If there was one thing Clarke could give Bellamy Blake credit for, it was that he knew when his presence was no longer wanted. As his gaze turned from Clarke, he seemed to realize that there was an awkward air between Clarke and Diyoza and excused himself, leaving his drink half full. Just as Clarke noticed it, Diyoza spoke. </p><p>“He’ll be back. I told him to mentor you this weekend.”  </p><p>“Jesus, Diyoza,” Clarke sighed, shaking her head, “I don’t need a babysitter.”  </p><p>“You’re right, you don’t. But you do need someone to help you hone your writing skills- Clarke, listen to me,” Diyoza said, moving closer so that only Clarke could hear her, “if you don’t make your book more approachable, the board will drop your project. I don’t want that to happen, you don’t want that to happen, and neither does Bellamy. That’s why he offered to help.”  </p><p>“Wait, what?” Clarke asked, confused and blindsided, “he read my manuscript?” </p><p>“He’s one of my best editors. He has a doctorate it in English literature Clarke, he’s a part-time professor, but he didn’t mention that, did he?”  </p><p>Clarke shook her head- no, the guy seemed rather humble and kind so far. Even if he was a bit flirtatious. Maybe he could help her. After all, she had been feeling lost with her writing lately.  </p><p>“I just- I don’t know,” she said, settling her elbows on the bar and cradling her face in her hands, “am I that shitty of a writer, Diyoza?”   </p><p>“No, you really aren’t, you just need... perspective,” she said, a small sad-looking smile taking up residence on her lips, “just trust me. I like you, Clarke, I <em>want </em>you to succeed, and Bellamy is the best. Seriously. He’s mentored a lot of writers, and he has this way about him where he doesn’t undermine you, okay?” </p><p>“Fine,” she groaned, “but I’m doing this because you’re making me- got that?”  </p><p>At that, Diyoza merely smiled and patted Clarke on the shoulder, "I'll let our guy know," she said, walking away.  </p><p>“So, are you gonna punch me?” Bellamy asked a few minutes later, as Clarke continued to nurse her drink. Turning slightly, she eyed him. He seemed to look genuinely sheepish- almost pitying.</p><p>“No,” she said, giving in. Downing her drink, she turned to him and exclaimed, “So, teach me how to write romance!”  </p><p>At that, Bellamy merely chuckled and ordered a couple more drinks. Jerking his head, he led the way to a table off in the corner of the bar. As Clarke sat down, he spoke again, “I’m not going to teach you how to write anything, Clarke. You’re a great writer- one of the best new writers I’ve ever read.” </p><p>“How would you know? You’ve only read my one, shitty manuscript,” she sulked. </p><p>“I was actually one of your ghost editors on your first book,” At that Clarke felt her stomach drop- she had a panel of editors who gave her a lot of great feedback. Diyoza had said that one of them, in particular, took to her work- and that she wished she could introduce them, but it was against the rules and would hinder the blind process, “you did a great job on it. I really felt for both Vanessa and Sam. It was an amazing journey- I was the first one on the panel that encouraged you to keep your ending. You provided enough happy memories in the flashbacks- and good came of Sam’s death, so I saw it as a surprising move for a new writer... you did great.”  </p><p>Clarke couldn’t help the sense of pride that bloomed in her chest, no one had given her that sort of feedback, and she hated herself for craving more, “but this book?” </p><p>“It doesn’t connect with humanity,” he said, surveying her reaction, “I just want to talk, get you connected with yourself, so that it isn’t... so stilted, I guess.”  </p><p>“Stilted,” she said, testing out the word. It was accurate if she had to choose one. </p><p>“What<em> really </em> inspired your first book?” Bellamy asked, taking Clarke off guard, “I’m gonna ask deep questions Clarke, so don’t give bullshit answers, okay? Otherwise, we’ll be here all night.”  </p><p><em> Well, then, </em>Clarke thought to herself.  </p><p>It took her a minute to pinpoint an answer, but when she did she shared what happened with Lexa, how Clarke had been a suspect- how the cops had wasted time with her, and the killer was able to flee, “the book was a reimagining, a fix-it work. I guess it was me playing out what I would have done if I had the chance. Going after the killer, exposing him- even if it meant my own demise. It was all I wanted, but I had no ability to do it. He was gone. Disappeared by the time they picked up the trail... and I got no closure. Lexa received no justice.”  </p><p>Clarke looked up from her glass to see Bellamy nodding, his eyes looking a bit sad, “my last book- it was something I had been working on since I was nineteen. I got married young... My wife was sick, a genetic illness. But I wanted to make her time on earth happy. That book was our fix it. I wrote it from the widow’s perspective, but the memories, those are dreams that Gina and I had. Dreams we knew from day one that we’d never get- but it was good to dream. It made her smile.”  </p><p>Unsure of what to say, she wracked her brain and settled on, “I’m sorry you lost your wife.”  </p><p>“I’m not, though,” Bellamy said, and Clarke was sure she looked shocked, “I had time with her- I had seven years, four of them married. She was sick the entire time we were married. So, I say that that I’m not sorry she’s gone, because I’m glad she isn’t suffering. I used to feel guilty about that- but passing was not the worst thing that happened to Gina. It was watching her suffer that was so difficult. But you- you lost someone suddenly, violently. Before their time, in a way that is violating... I have nothing but respect for you. I don’t know how you wrote a whole book to help yourself... I don’t know how I would begin to cope. You’re strong, Clarke.”  </p><p>“Then why don’t I feel strong?” she asked, surprising herself. The truth was, she hadn’t opened up to anyone about this, let alone a stranger, “I feel like my chest is being torn open, over and over again, and I’m waiting for the day that it stops hurting so much.”  </p><p>Talking felt like bleeding.</p><p>And for once it was cathartic. </p><p>“Having people, a community helps. I had Gina’s parents. My mom, my sister,” Bellamy said, his eyes meet hers, as a smile spread across his face, “I had friends.”  </p><p>“Yeah, I only had Lexa,” she said, looking down, she hated talking about how alone she was, “I mean, my family didn’t accept that I was bisexual, and it was clear I couldn’t lean on them after it happened.”  </p><p>As Clarke fell silent, she felt a warm, firm hand cover hers. Looking at it, she couldn’t help but marvel at Bellamy’s bronze skin over her creamy white complexion... It looked peaceful, steadying, grounding. As his fingers squeezed hers, she tried not to react too much. But her heartrate picked up and was beating at an alarming pace, it was the first time she had been touched in years... and it felt nice. </p><p>Suddenly, she had the overwhelming desire to be wrapped up in someone <em>(but definitely not Bellamy. Her brain was only imagining him because he was there)</em>. Touch starved as she was, she wasn’t about to beg a perfect stranger to fill that need. Even so, as Clarke stared at their hands, his thumb began to swipe back and forth over her skin, and she cursed herself for blushing.  </p><p>As soon as she cleared her throat, Bellamy removed his hand and apologized. </p><p>“It’s okay,” she said, “I- uh, maybe that’s why my work is so stilted. I don’t get much human contact. Maybe I don’t know how it feels to be satisfied.”  </p><p>At that, Bellamy’s eyebrows shot up, and Clarke scrambled to speak, “I just mean emotionally, you know? Like I haven’t talked to someone like this in a while. Although, the other way is probably just as bad- I swear I don’t even remember what it’s like to be kissed,” she laughed awkwardly, closing her eyes, because fuck- this was a disaster, wasn’t it? “Oh my god, I should go to bed. She said, walking up to the bar to settle her tab. Just as she was about to talk to the bartender, Bellamy interrupted, to make sure he could pay.  </p><p>“You don’t have-”  </p><p>“I want to-” </p><p>“Really, you don’t-” </p><p>“Christ, Clarke,” Bellamy said, his hands coming up to hold her elbows, and Clarke was certain he felt her shiver in response, “let me buy your drinks, please?”  </p><p>Swallowing thickly, she nodded. When the bartender came back, Bellamy moved to sign the receipt. As he did so, Clarke said goodnight and began to walk to her room. She liked Bellamy, and she knew he wasn’t judging her, but her self-imposed verbal word count had been reached for the night, and she was now freaking out. Why had she said those stupid, stupid things?  </p><p>Why had she said she didn’t remember what it was like to be kissed? Did she want him to offer to kiss her or something? Shaking her head, she reached into her coat to grab her wallet- only to find it missing.  </p><p><em> “Fuck,” </em>  Clarke muttered, as she turned to see Bellamy headed toward  her, <em>“oh, god.”</em>   </p><p>“You forgot this,” he said, as a nervous smile appeared on his lips.   </p><p>“Thanks,” taking out the key card, she put slid it into the reader. When Bellamy didn’t leave her side, she turned to him, “you okay?”  </p><p>“Uh, yeah,” he said, nodding, his hands in his pockets as he stepped back a little- he seemed unsure of himself, “You?”  </p><p>“Yeah,” Clarke said, as she realized how awkward this felt. It seemed like there was an elephant in the room, yet she didn’t want to bring it to light. Nodding to her room, she spoke again, “Well, I’m gonna...”  </p><p>“Clarke- <em>wait.</em>”  </p><p>Turning back to him, Clarke watched as Bellamy took two strides toward her and pulled her into a hug. In no time, she melted into him, with her arms around his neck, and her cheek on his shoulder. Okay, maybe he was a decent writer- but he was a damn good hugger. And Clarke found herself sighing into the embrace.  </p><p>It was rather embarrassing, really.  </p><p>She pulled away first- for fear of falling asleep on the poor man. As she did so, her eyes met his and then, too embarrassed to linger, they fell to his lips. One moment she was wondering how they might feel against hers- whether they’d be firm or soft, shy or demanding- the next moment, they were on hers- soft and then firm, as they began to respond to one another. </p><p>Tentatively, his tongue coaxed her mouth open, while his hands pulled her waist against himself. As her hands found his soft curls, she tilted her head and licked into his mouth. His tongue against hers made her breath catch and sent a shock of arousal to her core. Following the sensation, she pulled him even closer and backed up until there was a solid surface against her back.  </p><p>Meanwhile, Bellamy’s hands seemed to stay on her waist- even as she felt him harden against her stomach. Just as she raised her knee for him to grab, he stilled and pulled back a little. Breathing heavily, he shook his head and laughed, “Sorry, I should go,” he said, his voice sounding wrecked.  </p><p>“Okay,” Clarke nodded trying not to take it personally, even as it stung a little.  </p><p>“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bellamy asked, his eyes taking on a sweet note. As Clarke nodded, he kissed her one more time and disentangled from her, “I hope it was a good reminder.”  </p><p>Clarke let out a breathy laugh.</p><p>Of course, he was just giving her a reminder.  </p><p>With her back against the door, Clarke watched as Bellamy walked down the hall and caught the elevator to another floor. For the first time in a long time, Clarke went to bed with a sweet, unsatiated ache in her core- and an even more pronounced ache in her chest.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Little Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Bellamy and Clarke continue to grow closer, both feeling something they can't quite pinpoint.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As you may have guessed, I am not a professional author. And I don't know what happens at a writing conference. So please, cut me some slack, and just enjoy my cheesy author fic. </p><p>There is smut in this chapter!</p><p>Media note: there is a short text message exchange between Clarke and Raven. If you can't see it, I suggest flipping your phone long-way.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke didn’t even lie to herself the next morning when she picked a slightly more revealing shirt to wear, and skin-tight jeans.  </p><p>Bellamy’s kiss had stirred something in her. A sense of possibility, excitement.  </p><p>Even if he was just reminding her of how a kiss could feel, she now knew she still had desires- needs, that frankly, were stirring so terribly in her stomach she thought she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to touch herself. Somehow though, touching herself to the idea of this man she hardly knew seemed... cheap.  </p><p>And Clarke certainly wasn’t a prude, no.  </p><p>It just felt like it could be really, truly, special- if she let it be.  </p><p>Part of her was afraid that Bellamy had been using a line on her- maybe he told this story to all the girls just to get them into bed? Even if it was a line (and she really, really hoped it wasn’t), maybe they could still have fun. Or maybe Clarke could find someone else to “have fun” with- though that did seem much less appealing.  </p><p>So, donned with curls framing her face, her favorite eye shadow/liner combo that made her ocean eyes pop, and a little foundation, Clarke gave herself a once over. Taking a selfie, she sent a photo to her friend, Raven. </p><p>              </p><p>Sure enough, Raven called seconds after Clarke read the message. After Clarke told her about Bellamy and what happened, she felt a little spark of panic- what if she was reading into this? </p><p>“Okay, how long ago did his wife die?”  </p><p>“Jesus, Raven, I wasn’t going to ask that!” she said, gathering her stuff for the day, “I just want to know if I should try- you know maybe I could ask him out. Whatever.”  </p><p>“Well, maybe it's been a while for him. You know? You said his wife was sick, and by the looks of the illness she had they weren’t boning a lot while she was ill- and she was ill a lot.”  </p><p>“Oh my god, Raven! You looked them up, didn’t you?“  </p><p>“Look, I just care,” Raven said, sounding exasperated, “and if they’ve passed on it's not a violation of their privacy.”  </p><p>“It’s a violation of Bellamy’s!” Clarke insisted, if someone had done this to Lexa, she’d be livid. But Raven was a different breed, and she really did care, “look, it’s okay, I’m not mad. Just please leave it there?” </p><p>“Gotcha, boss. But uh, can I say one more thing?” </p><p>“Sure?”  </p><p>“He’s hot. Like superhot,” Raven said, and Clarke was rolling her eyes, she’d found a photo of him, “God, I just wanna lick his adam’s apple.”  </p><p>Just then, a knock sounded on the door.  </p><p>“Look, Raven, if things don’t work out for him and me, I’ll pass that along,” Clarke laughed, “I gotta go, someone’s here.”  </p><p>“Okay, bye! Remember, if you put out on vacation it doesn’t count!”  </p><p>Clarke hung up without a response and grabbed her purse. She had a feeling it was either Charmaine or Bellamy, and as she opened the door, she was quite happy that it proved to be the latter, “Hey,” she said, smiling.  </p><p>“Hey,” Bellamy said, as he lowered his hand from his neck. Had he been rubbing it? Was that a nervous tell of his? “I wanted to know if you wanted to go to a small group seminar, Movement and Touch for Writers? My friend Luna is running it. She’s awesome.” </p><p>“Um, I don’t know,” Clarke said, movement and touch, it seemed a little scary if she was honest. </p><p>“Don’t worry, you don’t have to participate in anything unless you want to. And I’ll stay with you the whole time.”  </p><p>Well, how could she say no to that? </p><p>The seminar was small. Just ten people- most of whom seemed coupled up. Walking in, Clarke only recognized Harper and Maya, who were attending with two young men. One was wearing a hoodie and the other goggles. As Clarke looked to Bellamy, he smiled and looked to the ground, his gesture more of a question than anything else. Tentatively, Clarke sat down, folding her legs under herself, and placing her folded hands above them. Without even thinking, she tried to make herself as small as possible, after noticing that everyone was staring at her.  </p><p>“And who is this?” a voice rang out, as another woman joined the room, her eyes on Clarke, “Bellamy, this seminar was invite-only.”  </p><p>“And I invited her, Luna,” he said, cheekily, grabbing her hand, “you said to bring someone I trust, I trust Clarke.”  </p><p>“Well then, I didn’t realize you’d found a girlfriend,” Luna said, smiling. Wide-eyed, Clarke turned to Bellamy, who shook his head, warning her not to respond. </p><p>As Luna explained the seminar, her head spun. The entire seminar was about touch and learning how to describe it movingly, while remaining logical. Following Luna’s instructions, Clarke and Bellamy faced one another, a blush forming on her cheeks as Bellamy raised his hands in the air. Slowly, Clarke raised her own. As their fingertips brushed, Clarke felt a jolt of electricity run down her arms. Soon, their palms were flush together, and it was all Clarke could do to suppress a whimper, or to keep herself from leaning in.  </p><p>“New girl, how would you describe what you’re feeling right now?” Luna asked as she walked around the various couples. </p><p>“Um,” Clarke said, breathing deep to keep the dizziness at bay, “warm.”  </p><p>“No- not good enough. Open up. Bellamy brought you here because he trusts you, use your words,” she said, as if it were a common mistake, “Bellamy, describe how you feel.”  </p><p>For a moment, Bellamy worked his jaw, but as he spoke, his fingers threaded through hers, and Clarke felt grounded, “I feel awoken by some unknowing sun that brushed against me, feeding me warmth and light.”  </p><p>“A little corny but good. Clarke, again.”  </p><p>Swallowing thickly, she responded without thinking, “its electric, on the edge of dangerous- but not so much that I’m afraid,” and taking another breath, her eyes locked onto his as she thought to herself, <em> It’s just right. </em> </p><p> </p><p>In the end, it was Harper who invited her out that night. If it weren’t for the fact that she had promised Bellamy would be there (and in a suit no less), Clarke would have said no. She had a lot of issues with integrating into new groups, and well, she was never one for pretense.  </p><p>Much to her surprise, however, Bellamy was there and waiting for her when she entered the bar. She didn’t miss the way his eyes roved over her long blue flared gown, and settled on her plunging neckline, even if it was brief.  </p><p>“Would you like to dance?” he asked, “or have you reached your touching quota for the day?”  </p><p>With a little laugh, Clarke took his outstretched hand and assured him she was okay. It wasn’t long before Bellamy had her back to his chest as they swayed in time. With his lips against her neck, he set his large hand on her stomach, and Clarke felt her body grow warm with desire. God, what she wouldn’t give just to have him, right then and there. As the song switched to something slower, however, Clarke turned around and ran her hands up his chest to link her fingers behind his neck, “you’re a great dancer,” she said smiling.  </p><p>“Thank you,” Bellamy said, looking around, before finally looking her in the eye. If Clarke didn’t know better, he seemed a little nervous, “you look amazing, Clarke.”  </p><p>She couldn’t help the warmth that settled in her stomach at his admission. God, did he have to look at her like she was precious?  </p><p>“What are you thinking about?” she asked, the words flying out before she realized what was happening. </p><p>“Other than the fact that you’re beautiful?” he asked, “I’m thinking about last night.”  </p><p>“Our kiss?” Clarke asked, trying to see if he long happy or regretful about it. </p><p>“Yeah,” was all he said before he twirled her. Part of her wondered if he could toss her around in on other ways.</p><p><em> If she was lucky, maybe.  </em> </p><p>“Bellamy, I-” she started, but before she could say anything, Bellamy was breaking away and excusing himself. He had to use the restroom.  As she watched him walk away, she made her way to the table, where Harper and her husband, Monty, were.  </p><p>“Look, I didn’t tell you this,” Harper said, leaning in as Clarke watched out for Bellamy, “but I’ve known Bellamy since high school, Gina was one of my best friends. So, believe me when I tell you, Bellamy Blake is an idiot.”  </p><p>Of all the things Harper could have said, that was not what Clarke was expecting. As her gaze snapped back, Harper laughed, “it took Bellamy four months to pick up on Gina liking him. And he kissed you after one day- that's huge Clarke. I’ve never seen him take to someone like this. Do what you want with that. But know that he hasn’t dated since Gina passed, and he may seem confident, but he doubts himself and maybe even feels guilty for considering the possibility of happiness.” </p><p>Chewing on her lip, Clarke considered Harper’s words. Was it like that for Bellamy? Had he gone, what was it? Four years without a relationship, without human contact, without sex. </p><p>“He deserves to be happy,” Clarke said without a second thought.  </p><p>“The way I look at it, you both deserve a new chapter in your life,” she said, “plus if you two don’t bone soon, I think this hotel is going to combust. He’s been staring you down when you’re not looking... and it would be hot if I were into him.”  </p><p>Clarke had felt something while dancing, the way he held her, the way he gripped her hip and moved his body against hers. She could almost moan at the thought of him running his down her stomach, going further than he had when they were dancing- maybe even going under her dress.</p><p>That was the thought that broke her- getting up, Clarke downed her drink fast and thanked Harper for the talk before she followed Bellamy’s stride. He had entered the bathroom before she caught the door. Entering slowly, Clarke watched as Bellamy's hands gripped the sink and shook his head.  </p><p>“So stupid,” he murmured, turning the water on and splashing his face, as he moved to dry his face he continued, “just ask her out, that’s all you have to do- just go ahead and-” </p><p>Caught off guard, Clarke let out a small giggle. God, he was adorable- trying to psych himself up to ask her out. Immediately, Bellamy turned with a look of shock on his face, “Clarke, I-”  </p><p>“You wanna ask me out?” she asked coyly, with her hands clasped behind her back as she slowly walked toward him. Each step was deliberate, while her bottom lip caught between her teeth. She was teasing him, really. And judging by the deep breath he took, and the way his gaze darkened, he liked it.  </p><p>“I’ve been thinking about you since last night,” he admitted with no shame, “you are just-”  </p><p>Cutting him off, Clarke placed her finger on his lips, “why didn’t you come to my room with me?” she asked, she had been so ready for him to fuck her- but he had stopped it before they could get really heated.  </p><p>“I- it’s been a long time for me,” he said, breathing heavily, as Clarke’s hands settled on his neck, and her thumbs played with his neatly trimmed beard, “I didn’t want to disappoint.” </p><p>“I don’t think you could,” she murmured, pulling him down into a kiss. The affection began heated and desperate and only got better, as Bellamy licked against her lips- it was as if he was begging to enter a sacred place. As Clarke moaned into his mouth, he pulled her close to him, and this time she could feel everything.  </p><p>Desperate and wanting, she reached for his belt. When he didn’t stop her, she unfastened it and got his dress pants undone. In no time, she had him in her hand, warm and wanting- and fuck, she needed him. To her surprise, Bellamy grabbed her by the ass cheeks, lifted her up and set her on the vanity. As she worked him with her small hand, he let out a moan.  </p><p>"This is not how imagined this happening," Bellamy whispered, almost breathless while his fingers ghosted up her dress to pull her panties aside. </p><p>"What public sex isn’t your style?" Clarke teased, hiding her worry- what if she was pushing it, what if he wasn't ready?  </p><p><em> "My style," </em> Bellamy murmured, before he kissed her deeply and began to push into her, "is whatever makes you feel good, Clarke." </p><p>It wasn’t long before she had her arms around him and her lips settled against his neck, as he pumped in and out of her. Every stroke wound her up, as he whispered sweet, filthy little things in her ear and drove her wild.  </p><p>“C’mon Clarke,” he said, his voice sounding tight- no doubt he was close, “C’mon tell me what you need.”  </p><p>Without a word, Clarke wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer. Taking the hint, he grabbed her by the ass, and moved her up and down- grinding her against himself, making her clit rub against him perfectly. In no time, she came with an intense shutter, feeling rather thankful when Bellamy swallowed her obscene moans with his mouth. Moments later, he was emptying himself inside her, little praises falling from his lips lazily.  </p><p>As the reality of what just happened set in, Clarke giggled. She couldn’t help but feel full and happy, and not quite ready to let the man go. As he pulled out of her, she let out a whimper and pulled him back for a kiss, “Come to my room?” she asked, hope seeping out of the new cracks in her carefully built wall.  </p><p>“I’d love to,” he said, and his murmur sounded more like a foreshadowing of things to come. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
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